About half-way between Scarhaven and Norcaster there's a very narrow opening in the cliffs that you'd never notice unless you were close in shore, and inside that opening there's a cove that's big enough to take a thousand-ton vessel--aye, and half-a-dozen of 'em! It was a favourite place for smugglers in the old days, and they call it Darkman's Dene to this day in memory of a famous old smuggler that used it a good deal.

Well, now, at the land end of that cove there's a narrow valley that runs up to the moorland and the hills, full o' rocks and crags and precipices and such like--something o' the same sort as Hobkin's Hole but a deal wilder, and that's known as the Reaver's Glen, because in other days the cattle-lifters used to bring their stolen goods, cattle and sheep, down there where they could pen 'em in, as it were.

There's piles o' places in that glen where a man can hide--I picked out one right at the top, at the edge of the moors, where there's the ruins of an old peel tower.

I could get shelter in that old tower, and at the same time slip out of it if need be into one of fifty likely hiding places amongst the rocks.

I got into touch with my cousin Jim Spurge--the one-eyed chap at the 'Admiral's Arms,' Mr.Copplestone, that night--and I got in a supply of meat and drink, and there I was.